the clinic wouldn’t be open. The vehicle was a little upscale for anyof the village residents. Well, except maybe for the crime lords and slumlords. They generally drove nicer vehicles.
Maybe she could at least get the name of whoever was running the clinic. The physician’s signature on the patient visit form was impossible to make out. Big surprise there. If she had to track down the doctor in charge at home or at another clinic, she would.
A woman emerged from the Camry. “The clinic’s closed,” she announced without preamble.
Hello to you, too
. CJ was in no mood to take any crap. The lady would just have to deal with it. “Yeah, I see that.” She took a couple of steps toward the Camry. “Can you tell me the name of the doctor who runs the clinic?”
The woman stared at CJ across the top of her car. Her gaze narrowed. “CJ Patterson?”
CJ tried to place the woman’s face. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Long brown hair, round face. Boxy frame, not exactly fat, just square. Medium height. “Yes. I’m CJ Patterson.”
She was just about to ask the woman’s name when the woman spoke up again. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
The fact that her expression had grown colder with the statement didn’t bode well for getting information.
“I’m sorry.” CJ shook her head. “I’m really bad with names.” That wasn’t generally the case, but the other woman didn’t have to know that.
As if the woman had decided the conversation wasn’t worth pursuing, she reached back into her Camry and withdrew with a large shoulder bag and an armful of files. She bumped the car door closed with her hip.
“Like I said”—she sent CJ a pointed look—“the clinic is closed.” She tossed her head, sending her hair flying over her shoulder, and marched toward the clinic’s entrance.
Wait
. There was something familiar about that move—the whole tossing-her-head thing, as if she’d just dismissed CJ. “Juanita.” CJ recognized her now. “Juanita Lusk.”
Key halfway to the door’s lock, the woman’s hand stilled. “Iguess you’re better with names than you thought.” She shoved the key into the lock without a backward glance.
It was all coming back to CJ now. Juanita had been a junior when CJ was a freshman at Huntsville’s University of Alabama. Juanita had been in pre-med, too.
Carter Cost
.
Yeah, CJ remembered. He’d dumped Juanita for a brief fling with CJ. Her first and only mistake with men—until Braddock.
Evidently Juanita still held a grudge.
CJ bolted into action, catching the door before it closed behind Lusk. She parked herself in the threshold and didn’t budge.
“I already told you,” Juanita snapped, “we’re closed.”
“I’ll only take a minute of your time. Please,” CJ urged, “it’s really important.”
An indifferent huff previewed the lack of compassion that claimed Lusk’s face. “Get out of the way and let me lock the door before the whole fucking village shows up.”
CJ stepped around her and waited while she locked the door. Lusk didn’t switch on the lights, just turned and headed through the lobby. CJ stayed right on her heels.
The clinic looked exactly as it had when she was a kid. Same scuffed tile floors and worn-out waiting room seating. The TV and VCR were new to the clinic but far from newly purchased. Beyond the lobby there appeared to have been a halfhearted face-lift in the last decade. Still three exam rooms to the right, a toilet, lab/supply room, and office on the left. Straight back at the end of the corridor that divided the rear section of the clinic in half was an emergency exit, the one the staff generally used to come and go.
Inside the cramped office Juanita dumped the load of files on the already cluttered metal desk and dropped her bag on the floor. “What do you want?” She plopped unceremoniously into the chair behind the desk. “When I get finished here I have catching up to do at the Downtown
Maybe she could at least get the name of whoever was running the clinic. The physician’s signature on the patient visit form was impossible to make out. Big surprise there. If she had to track down the doctor in charge at home or at another clinic, she would.
A woman emerged from the Camry. “The clinic’s closed,” she announced without preamble.
Hello to you, too
. CJ was in no mood to take any crap. The lady would just have to deal with it. “Yeah, I see that.” She took a couple of steps toward the Camry. “Can you tell me the name of the doctor who runs the clinic?”
The woman stared at CJ across the top of her car. Her gaze narrowed. “CJ Patterson?”
CJ tried to place the woman’s face. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Long brown hair, round face. Boxy frame, not exactly fat, just square. Medium height. “Yes. I’m CJ Patterson.”
She was just about to ask the woman’s name when the woman spoke up again. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
The fact that her expression had grown colder with the statement didn’t bode well for getting information.
“I’m sorry.” CJ shook her head. “I’m really bad with names.” That wasn’t generally the case, but the other woman didn’t have to know that.
As if the woman had decided the conversation wasn’t worth pursuing, she reached back into her Camry and withdrew with a large shoulder bag and an armful of files. She bumped the car door closed with her hip.
“Like I said”—she sent CJ a pointed look—“the clinic is closed.” She tossed her head, sending her hair flying over her shoulder, and marched toward the clinic’s entrance.
Wait
. There was something familiar about that move—the whole tossing-her-head thing, as if she’d just dismissed CJ. “Juanita.” CJ recognized her now. “Juanita Lusk.”
Key halfway to the door’s lock, the woman’s hand stilled. “Iguess you’re better with names than you thought.” She shoved the key into the lock without a backward glance.
It was all coming back to CJ now. Juanita had been a junior when CJ was a freshman at Huntsville’s University of Alabama. Juanita had been in pre-med, too.
Carter Cost
.
Yeah, CJ remembered. He’d dumped Juanita for a brief fling with CJ. Her first and only mistake with men—until Braddock.
Evidently Juanita still held a grudge.
CJ bolted into action, catching the door before it closed behind Lusk. She parked herself in the threshold and didn’t budge.
“I already told you,” Juanita snapped, “we’re closed.”
“I’ll only take a minute of your time. Please,” CJ urged, “it’s really important.”
An indifferent huff previewed the lack of compassion that claimed Lusk’s face. “Get out of the way and let me lock the door before the whole fucking village shows up.”
CJ stepped around her and waited while she locked the door. Lusk didn’t switch on the lights, just turned and headed through the lobby. CJ stayed right on her heels.
The clinic looked exactly as it had when she was a kid. Same scuffed tile floors and worn-out waiting room seating. The TV and VCR were new to the clinic but far from newly purchased. Beyond the lobby there appeared to have been a halfhearted face-lift in the last decade. Still three exam rooms to the right, a toilet, lab/supply room, and office on the left. Straight back at the end of the corridor that divided the rear section of the clinic in half was an emergency exit, the one the staff generally used to come and go.
Inside the cramped office Juanita dumped the load of files on the already cluttered metal desk and dropped her bag on the floor. “What do you want?” She plopped unceremoniously into the chair behind the desk. “When I get finished here I have catching up to do at the Downtown
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